


changes (irrational)

by VoidDamned



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Eskel Whump (The Witcher), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidDamned/pseuds/VoidDamned
Summary: It's been so long since Eskel last had physical affection - so much so that now, he's repulsed by it.or: how Eskel deals with affection, and being a Witcher.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	changes (irrational)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Five-Wheeled Wagon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350011) by [CreativWit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativWit/pseuds/CreativWit), [Rose_SK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK). 



Eskel is fifteen and he’s forgotten his mother’s touch. 

It’s... odd. He knows she played with his hair – remembers the song she used to sing as she did but he can’t remember the feeling of her hands combing through his short hair. He can’t remember her hugging him.

He can remember Geralt – both lanky teens with sharp jutting bones from where they were underfed and where the trials had ate away at their fat. They’d tucked themselves into a bed refusing budge, arms wrapped around one another in a death grip, as though they might suddenly, like the other boys who failed to get through.

They continue for a few years after completing the trials, even if it is more awkward with their bigger bulkier frames. They cling to one another with a constant desperation- on that Eskel is sure they both feel. 

And then it stops. 

Geralt won’t come to him anymore, leaves him alone. Eskel tries to initiate touches but Geralt doesn’t respond, not like he used to. Eskel stops trying, can smell (and oh god that’s a weird thing itself what the actual fuck) Geralt’s discomfort and frustration at affection.

It’s okay – Eskel survived the trials, he can survive being denied a little bit of affection. Even of it does hurt, to leave something so _minor_ unsatisfied. Its odd, previously Eskel hadn’t considered the affection and hugs and touches to matter all to much, but the lack of them leaves a colossal chasm in Eskel's soul, a craving buried under skin that needs a gentle touch to sate rather than rough scratching. 

Eskel has to confront a year on the path. 

He’s been told for many years in Kaer Morhen, about the solitary lives and existences of Witchers. He knows what to expect but still, he finds himself reeling after seeming being cut off from the only person who seemed to tolerate touching him, and it seems like there’s a longer wait for any luxury of that nature. 

People look at him, meet amber eyes dead on and stares and Eskel is overwhelmed with their revulsion, their disgust. He has no choice, not a real one, in the contracts he accepts, not when it was what he was made to do and not when he has to eat and take care of Scorpion. 

His first job is an Arachnomorph and leaves scars in its wake- but he takes the head to the Alderman and collects his payment. 

People stay metres away from him, parting as they see him approach with Scorpion behind him. He wishes it were courtesy, people making rook for him and Scorpion, but the disgust and fear make it clear, an undeniable truth:

He is a monster. 

A monster that kills other monsters, no less. 

Still, the older Witchers had warned about this – the fear humanity had of them and their trials and their mutations. 

“It’s something we have to get used to as Witchers,” one had said, old and solemn about their fate. 

Eskel with deal with it and in time, it’ll be better. 

It’s a long time before Eskel knows affection again. Many years he returns and finds comfort in his own furs and in the presence of the other Witchers - of knowing they’re alive, that Geralt is alive. 

(The chasm that was left when no one would touch him doesn’t exist anymore, or maybe Eskel's forgotten how to recognise it. Geralt had brushed up against him one evening as they were eating the meal, and Eskel had flinched, skin unprepared for the touch. Geralt had frowned and looked at him, but Eskel started steadfast at his food, wondering why he couldn’t accept the minor touch. )

They get new boys in one year, and Eskel stares at them as they are led by the mages. Eskel tries to not think about how many of the faces he’s probably seeing for the last time. 

Lambert is younger (Eskel remembers him from the boys that were led, remembers amongst boys who were being ‘disobedient') but no less skilled – but a lot more hard headed. He doesn’t admit it, but Eskel can hear him, knows the trials have given him nightmares. He’s not the only Witcher to have suffered with them, but he’s stubborn and doesn’t talk about it. 

He wakes shrieking one night, and Eskel is startled awake so violently that it hurts. He goes to Lambert’s room and finds he’s not the only witcher who responded to the sound – two others have. Geralt’s white hair is messy and unkempt, and Tobias looks like he’s going to stumble down the staircase with the way he staggers, wiping sleep from his eyes. 

They go ij and find Lambert curled up and he looks at them all briefly before returning to the comfort of his bed. “’m fine,” he grunts.

“We got nightmares,” Eskel assures, “its okay to have them.” 

Lambert glares at him but Eskel doesn’t waver. He approaches the bed softly, mindful of the noise he makes. He sits on the edge, Geralt clambering over to be between Lambert and the wall, Tobias making his spot at the foot of bed, stretching his legs in front of him.

“You can talk about it,” Eskel says, “or we can all go sleep.”

“You have your own rooms.”

“We’re in yours,” Geralt says, pulling Lambert closer to him. 

(A lot has changed. There are younger Witchers now. Geralt is a little more comfortable in showing affection. Eskel doesn’t know how to cope.)

Eskel follows, as does Tobias. It’s odd, laying near one another, especially when the other two have taken to piling on top of Lambert, despite his half-hearted complaints. 

It’s the closest Eskel has been to another person in a long time and he doesn’t know how to show affection physically anymore. He’s awkward and stiff, even when Geralt pulls him closer to the pile, he keeps some distance between them, to make it functional, to make it a little less overwhelming for Eskel. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep. 

It’s a routine – Eskel doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

The sacking of Kaer Morhen happens. Eskel grieves and grieves and knows he has loved where Witchers are told they are emotionless. He mourns them all. 

Eskel is not new to Witchers dying. It’s a professional hazard given what they do, death is expected, especially as they get old and get slower. 

It’s a job in a big town that makes him remember this. The innkeeper that pointed Eskel to the job had grunted whilst Eskel looked over at the job flyer. “Had one of your kind try to this before. Think you're up to it, Witcher?” 

Eskel stares absently for a long moment. “When did this Witcher leave?”

“Leave?” The innkeeper snorts and Eskel’s heart twists, “he died, Witcher – they left the body with the beast, if there’s anything left.”

Grief lances through Eskel’s core and it’s a lot to not physically respond to the urge to curl up. 

He takes it to the Alderman and sets out to hint an Archgriffin. 

The body is mostly intact when he gets there and the beast is wild and unruly, but Eskel makes quick work of it and decapitates it cleanly. He stares, looks between the body and the head of the monster. He makes a choice. 

He takes the head to the Alderman and collects his payment, before returning to the body. He makes a hasty pyre of wood from nearby trees, nothing like they could’ve for this Witcher at his own home. 

He lights it up and watches the body burn away into ash and smoke. 

He can smell the human- leather and metal, rust and sweat – long before he sees them. It’s a man, a blacksmith Eskel thinks. He stares at the pyre more than at Eskel. 

“A tradition of yours, Witcher?”

“Of mine,” Eskel says, “but I don’t know about his.”

“Why do it then?” the man’s voice is gruff and deep. 

“Witchers do what no human wants to do. That includes mourning other Witchers.”

He can feel the Blacksmiths eyes on him, but he stares at the pyre as it continues to burn. Nothing more is said until it’s all done. 

Eskel gets his scars from his child surprise. The fear and revulsion from before feel so easy to the horror and fear that now surrounds him. 

Eskel is familiar with it now. He can survive without touch. Has done for so long. 

It’s one particular year that the rest of the School of the Wolf are feeling affectionate. After a few hours of drinking, Geralt springs an idea on them. 

“Can we all just hug like we used to? You know, piling and shit,”

“Man,” Lambert says, laughing like he hasn’t in so long, “I don’t remember when I last slept like that.” 

Eskel doesn’t not want this – the mild brushing touches he receives from them are already awkward and irritating as is. Still, genuine happiness radiates from Geralt and Lambert and Eskel cannot bring himself to be cruel enough to deny them that. 

They pile into Geralt’s room, each dragging their own furs inside onto the bed. Eskel hasn’t done this in so long that he’s not sure how to respond and interact, it’s a weird sensation, as though he’s introducing himself to it for the first time. He waits for Geralt and Lambert to settle themselves, Geralt in the centre, with Lambert throwing his legs over Geralt’s own diagonally - smirking at Geralt’s annoyed grunt. The white haired Witcher scowls, although it softens when he turns to pull Eskel down, encouraging Eskel to through his arm over his chest. 

It hurts. Not physically. It’s a sensation, Eskel knows that, but it doesn’t feel like anything, much like a mild breeze that one can feel in their hair. No, it hurts because of how it doesn’t comfort Eskel, there is no warmth here anymore. It also feels like a part of Eskel is being ignored (so long had he felt like his physical needs for touch were being neglected, he hadn’t considered that there was something much different at work.) 

He knows he’s stiff, tries his best to relax and feel at home surrounded by his brothers. It’s difficult and he settles for making sure the room isn’t overwhelmed with the scent of his distress, waiting for their heartbeats to ease and their snores to settle. 

He pulls away after a very long while (spent in his own head, sure that it’s something wrong with him) sure that they’re asleep. He gets to the door creaking on its hinges and then – 

“’Kel?” Lambert murmurs and it hurts, because he sounds so confused. 

Eskel leaves the room without looking back, shutting the door gently. 

He goes to the library – it’s further away from the room that they’d all squeezed into. He’s mildly startled to find Yennefer, surprised he didn’t smell or hear her sooner. She looks up briefly from whatever book she’s reading (Eskel thinks it’s a Witcher written book, the rough backing of the book being a peeling leather barely held together by scraps of string. He thinks it was about two people in love.) and spares a smile before returning to reading. 

“Why are you up so late?” It’s hypocritical, but Eskel is curious. 

“Believe it or not, I couldn’t sleep,” she looks up at him properly and Eskel can feel the barest _tap at the forefront of his mind knows Yennefer is reading it. After a moment, she continues, “Fringilla snores, usually its cute but tonight it’s more irritating than not.”_

_Eskel snort, as he sinks into a seat. “I always wondered who that was.” When his room was closer to Fringilla and Yennefer’s, he could hear the snores at night, and it’s odd to say that he imagined that both women snored._

_Evidently reading his mind, or good intuition, Yennefer also laughs softly. “She always tells me _I_ snore but it’s mostly her.” _

_“Geralt snores like it’s a dying fashion.”_

_“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”_

_Eskel gives a half shrug, knowing he’s being given the option to leave it at that. “I’m not a fan of being touched.”_

_“A rarity among Witchers, I see.”_

_Eskel laughs. “Nah, you should’ve seen Geralt – he was like a brooding child that wouldn’t accept affection if you threw it at him.”_

_“Geralt does tend to set the bar.”_

_“Only because he can,” Eskel says, “Just like Lambert sets the bar for the stupidest thing you can do all year.”_

_Yennefer stares a moment, and Eskel can feel someone in his head. He relaxes, mostly to make it easier for Yennefer, partially because he’s so tired that he doesn’t think he’d be able hold her out anyway._

_She’s quiet for a moment. “You went a long time without affection.”_

_“I forgot how to,” Eskel finishes. There’s something soft and hurt by her tone of voice. “You?”_

_“The girls in Aretuza - it was difficult to know the relationships that were real,” Yennefer admits softly, “it was control your emotions or ignore them.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Eskel says._

_Yennefer waves him off, “It’s fine, my lack of affection made me needy for it.”_

_Eskel snorts. It’s odd to have found comfort in someone he previously would never have thought about. It’s a good feeling, washing away the odd feeling that plagues him whenever he has to engage with physical affection._

_Eventually, as with all things, Geralt and Lambert become aware of it._

_Eskel can’t be sure what alerted them, although there was no shortage of signs, from the scent of mild revulsion that Eskel knew he was giving off, to the way he was never relaxed._

_They stop giving him affection, even if they seem hesitant to do so. They pull away all at once – it’s not the lack of affection that disturbs Eskel, but after having them be content for so long with it he worries that they’re hurt by it._

_They bide their time, one of the examples where they’re more emotionally intelligent than usual, and find Eskel alone in his room. They don’t suffocate him with their presence and Eskel struggles to convey the gratitude at that._

_“You – we,” Geralt fumbles for a moment._

_“You don’t like us touching you,” Lambert says. Geralt nods his agreement. “You go all weird and stiff – did we do something?”_

_“No,” Eskel says, quickly and confident, and is calmed when his brothers relax for a moment. “I just don’t... like touch.”_

_Geralt frowns. “You used to hug me all the time when we were younger, until I stopped.” His scent picks up with worry after that, “did I...?”_

_“No,” Eskel says, “I just,” he waves his hands around, struggling to find the words. “It was so long before I got affection again – I just, had to make myself okay with not being touched.” His voice has gone thick and his eyes are watering – his brothers notice before him._

_“Kelly,” Lambert says softly, unsure what to do with the revelation – he is so unsure of how to comfort without touch._

_“It’s fine,” Eskel chokes out, “it’s not your fault – it’s... I didn’t know why I couldn’t accept your touch, I’m sorry.”_

_“No, Eskel,” Geralt soothes, settling next to Eskel on the bed, “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us.”_

_Eskel shakes his head as Lambert settles on his other side. “It’s not- it makes you guys happy, okay?’_

_“We don’t have to be happy at the expense of your misery,” Lambert says, frowning slightly. “Me and Geralt can do it and we’ll, we’ll figure something out for you Eskel.”_

_Geralt offers Eskel hand and after a moment he takes it. The white-haired man squeezes his hand. “You like what you like – and it’s okay to not like touch, Eskel.”_

_Eskel nods, even though he feels off kilter, like he’s missing something he’s supposed to want. It’s odd to not have that urge to satisfy anymore, and it’s even weirder to be mildly disgusted by it, but as his brothers awkwardly fumble around him, wary to touch him, Eskel smiles softly._

_Yeah, they were going to get through this._

**Author's Note:**

> is this awful? yes, out of character? probably, have it anyway. 
> 
> I'm sorry if the words are clunky and disjointed this is mostly me projecting onto Eskel and therefore I cannot explain my feelings so neither can he. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, even if it wasn't the best, and thank you for reading.


End file.
